Of Fires, Snow, and Caves
by muertalas
Summary: Invitations, conversations, little touches, drinks, countdown, kisses, unspoken resolutions. Standalone. Pokemon: Red/Green game universe.


**Invitation**

Green didn't really know how to respond when he got the message from his lifelong rival. The wizened, battle-worn Charizard gazed at the spiky-haired Gym Leader with questioning eyes, awaiting his yes or no answer. When he opened up the haphazardly folded paper, crinkled and slightly ripped despite how carefully the fire-breathing dragon must have carried it down from Mount Silver. Green gazed at the paper: an invitation, of all things. The scrawl that was such a trademark of the Champion was legible to his accustomed eyes, the words _It's almost New Year's. Celebrate together?_

The brunet glanced up at Red's Charizard, a smile playing on his thin lips. He nodded and the dragon lifted its wings, leaping up with a roar.

**Conversation**

"How do you not freeze to death for Christ's sake?" Green was wearing layers upon layers, inwardly contemplating whether or not he should just let out his Arcanine and ask it to keep him at least somewhat warm with its powerful body, its beautiful fur, its ridiculously hot temperature. And yet, there was the Champion, the Master, the man that had once been a boy but was no longer. He had grown both in size and in maturity, that much was easily obvious upon just viewing him for a split second between the horrid snowstorm that blocked him from blinking as much as needed. "Here, your mom gave me this to give to you," he added, tossing a heavy jacket that he nudged out from the crook of his half-frozen elbow, only to watch it be caught without so much as a second thought by Red.

"Say something would you?" sighed Green, now standing beside the black-haired man, bringing the scarf wrapped round his neck closer to the bottom half of his face. "You ask me to come up here only to ignore me again? Might as well head back down and show up late to Grandpa's house like I was planning if you're just gonna do that." He paused and then huffed angrily, "Goddamnit, Red... Fine then, I'm sick of this. Get frost bite it you have a deathwish. I won't stop you."

He turned, releasing his Arcanine from its Poké Ball and reaching up to climb on top of the magnificent creature. And then, there was a bone-chilling hand on his shoulder, ceasing every single miniscule movement in his skeleton, his muscles, his brain.

Two words: "No. Stay."

**Little Touches**

Green noticed it as they sat down by a fire the ex-Champion had started at the request – or rather, the forceful stare – of the Gym Leader. The stone walls of the cave were ominous, reading like storybooks that told of the hardships the cliff and the mountain had witnessed, the creatures they had seen, how alive they could have been had they not been rock. There were the little touches, the tiny gestures that just so happened to graze the brunet's skin for just a moment, a split fragment of time. And he found himself doing just the same thing as well, later on in the night as the clouds darkened as soon as the sun set beneath the horizon. The temperature got colder, and Red was patting him on the shoulder, a small grin on his face.

The same stupid grin that had laced his mouth the day that he had beaten Green at Indigo Plateau was on the tired, pale countenance of Red.

And Green found himself _liking_ it rather than hating it now more and more and more.

The little touches continued, mutual and friendly.

**Drinks**

For some reason unbeknownst to Green, the Champion had drinks ready for them, waiting for the caps to be twisted open as they sat in a pile of snow and ice. The black-haired man handed him a bottle of amber-colored liquid, taking a quick swig of it himself before sitting back down on the bare rocky floor once again. Green mimicked him, the slightly acidic, sour taste quenching his thirst regardless of how infrequent he actually consumed the alcoholic beverage.

"I didn't know you drank," offered Green, desperate for a conversation. Anything, anything, throw him a fucking _bone_ for God's sake.

"Don't usually," Red answered shortly, a slight monotone in his voice that had been there for years. "It's kind of annual now. New Year's."

"Yeah, same." It was a lame reply, he knew that, and the brunet only punctuated it with his mouth around the neck of the plastic bottle, tilting it upwards and ingesting some more of the intoxicating liquid. His brain was bound to be fuzzy, sleepy, easily swayed; his body was going to be heavy. He had experienced drunkenness before, but never with the rival, the friend, the crimson-pupiled man that sat next to him contently sipping at the beer. He could barely hold his alcohol anyway; it always seemed to go straight through him and only become absorbed into his vital organs.

Nevertheless, Green took yet another swig.

**Countdown**

"Almost time," said Red, glancing at his watch. He slipped it off of his thin wrist and set it down in front of them. The fire continued to crackle, only irritated more by the small twig that he threw in.

Green glared at him, wondering how exactly he could remain so calm when he had drunk five while the brunet had stayed with two. Directly after that, though, he questioned himself, deducing that his mind must be more tired than he had predicted.

_At least I'm not puking all over him..._ he thought.

"Twenty seconds."

And there was the countdown. The pair of men squeezed together, crouching down to gaze at a wristwatch that ticked hypnotically along the little ticks and Roman numerals. The see-through glass was cracked in numerous places and the leather of the watch band was worn and peeling slightly from the glue that had once held it together.

"Ten."

Green held his breath as he watched, the anticipation of something ridiculous happening that would draw their attention away from the fact that "Hey, another year's gone by!" Excitement rushed through him, though perhaps that might have been the beer's doing more so than his own, but he was thinking too far into it.

"Five."

The pair of trainers sat there on the cave floor, their eyes locked on the wristwatch that lay before them. The total equalizer was what it had become, and as Green shuffled closer – nothing more than a centimeter, really – Red grabbed his forearm with a spindly hand, the spiderweb veins crawling up from beneath his skin popping up more and more due to the cold.

"Three... two... one."

**Kisses**

Green didn't have much time to ask a question, to let out a surprised noise as Red brought his face closer to the brunet's. Eyes half-closed, Red was still wearing that same smile, and there was a hesitation evident in the crimson irises that were his namesake.

Green was the one who leaned in to latch his lips onto the ex-Champion's.

He couldn't really comprehend what was happening, his brain too fogged and much too busy freaking out. It was the alcohol, it was the magnetism that was so phenomenal, it was the beer, it was the fact that he couldn't stop arguing with himself.

And as Red deepened the kiss, placing his hand on the back of Green's neck to bring him closer. The brunet shifted, kneeling and moving slightly away from the flames. His legs grazed against the material of his pants, gravel sticking into his kneecaps; his hands squeezed the black-haired man's small waist encouragingly.

The wristwatch was long forgotten.

**Unspoken Resolutions**

When they separated to breathe, Green's heart palpitating and Red's lips swollen, the two were grinning. Crimson eyes reflected the fire that continued to burn next to them, silent words resonating from the thin, weather-worn body that were only reciprocated by the brunet. Green's smile widened, teeth glimmering with saliva.

Three words were spoken to shatter the silence. The little touches turned into full-on grasps that almost felt dire, as though Red was making sure that Green was still there, that he wasn't going to fade away into the howling winds and the frightening snowflakes. The words were somewhat panted, the man still catching his breath as his free hand fumbled for his watch. He stuffed it into his pocket, inching closer, sliding on his knees to whisper:

"Happy New Year."


End file.
